


Snow Turns To Ash

by reddottedpaper



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Episode Fix-It: s08e06 The Iron Throne, Episode: s08e06 The Iron Throne, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Other, Season Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-03-09 21:22:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18925288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddottedpaper/pseuds/reddottedpaper
Summary: Detailed look at the King's Landing slaughter and Dany's turn to madness from the view of Jon Snow.





	1. Love Is The Death Of Duty

Jon stood amid a slaughter. He watched his men’s swords eagerly meeting their enemies’. Shirts and robes tucked under armour started to stain with spills as red as wine. His own felt like boiling him and their fibres as fragile as if they were about to turn to ash and fly away with the wind. The screams around him were just silent mouths gasping for air, Drogon’s screech had long deafened him. The vibrations of steel meeting steel were all the man could focus on. The softness of another man’s belly giving away to his sword and the cold shower of blood blinding him as he slit the soldier’s throat were the only things making sense.

It could not be.

He felt like a child again. He saw himself as the little boy he once was so many years ago, watching dishonesty and the world not being just. He felt sick to his stomach then, when he first caught a glimpse of the lowly thief the guards had found stealing from the granary. It was not the same as when Father had found a hungry man stealing bread. Those man’s eyes were pleading for mercy, he stole from need. This man’s eyes spoke of treachery and sick intents. Neither eyes could look away when Father carried out the sentence. A hand shorter each for taking what isn’t theirs.

Even when so young in mind, Jon understood why lord Stark needed to do these things. He understood this world had a set of rules one needs to follow and obey, no matter what title you bear; lord or a bastard.

Sometimes good people died, tangled in the rules of this cruel game. Crime cannot go unpunished.

He felt sick to his stomach now as he watched his hand guide a sword through a man’s torso. The desperate lord wished to have the power to judge, sentence and carry out his own punishment when a soldier he commanded was dragging a woman by her hair into an alley.

Nothing could have stopped it. Jon’s voice fell upon deaf ears as he screamed for his soldiers to fall back. Swords were raised too high to bring them back down peacefully.

All the blood in Jon’s body turned as cold as ice. His eyes soared towards the bell tower in front of him as it was embraced by flames. The periodical deep chime disappeared into screeches of hot air escaping the melting iron. It was like those of men and women, screaming in utmost agony while flames scorched their bodies to a bone. He heaved when the smell reached him, only spit mixed with blood coming out. A Lannister soldier slipped on the hurl as an arrow buried between his shoulder blades.

The promises Jon pledged to keep seemed so little in his mind. Women screamed around him while his soldiers stabbed their men. Children clung to their mothers as they burnt to death, their tears vaporizing in flames before they even landed on their cheeks. Snow heard Arya, Sansa and Bran screaming in the streets. And yet, he felt his heart burden him down and tie his tongue.

It has been his decision to follow Dany, blindly and with absolute loyalty. He was so sure of her goodness. He thought he understood her, he thought he had found his light in the sea of darkness. When he touched her he felt a simple man. No king, no commander, no man resurrected, he felt simply a man. She was a gentle strip of silk on a robe of black leather and rough wolf hide. She was the queen he could rely on, queen he could follow. She was good and just, and he saw in her the ruler the whole Seven kingdoms were waiting for.

But Jon Snow now stood witness to bloodshed without reason. He saw revenge and fury in the place of peace he was longing for. For a fleeting moment his mind took him to a world where he was who Bran said he was; Aegon Targaryen. He saw himself sit upon the Iron Throne and his stomach twisted itself around once more. He never wanted to rule. But now he was wondering whether it would had prevented the flames licking the walls of King’s Landing.

“Fall back!” Jon screamed and in desperation, grabbed a fellow soldier’s sword by the blade. His follower moved to shrug him off but hesitated once his sword cut through his lord’s moleskin glove. “We need to fall back,” muttered Jon while paying no mind to his blood dripping on the ground, looking no less scared than the locals and soldiers they have been slaying.

“My lord,” choked the soldier.

“They are beaten! The battle is over!” roared Jon and shoved him back a step.

“Retreat!” echoed his thoughts a voice next to him. The lord felt a faint of rapture upon seeing Davos taking his side in the battle. He only wished it didn’t differ from the side of the Queen. The Unsullied pushed on throughout the burning city’s streets. Jon could not see Grey Worm among the soldiers. He didn’t know whether the smoke or the ash snowing down on them was at fault.

If a witch could reveal to Jon Snow the secret of how he found the strength to still stand, he would start to believe their odd tales. He never felt more at his own mercy than when he turned his sword against a northern soldier raping a woman. He killed the man and told the girl to hide. He was a criminal, a traitor and yet he felt even worse fighting against his enemies. They were nothing but a scared lot, cattle running away from a predator. Innocents seeking shelter from a tyrant.

He looked up to see his Queen, but he could not see her. Only scales and leathery wings and sharp spikes on a long tail gliding above the buildings, ravishing in the heat radiating from corpses and ruins.

Jon Snow ordered his men to fall back. Some were too lost in the battle. They didn’t hear his command, or rather a plea he screamed with all the might his lungs could muster while being filled with ash.


	2. Duty is the Death of Love

The footprints left in the ash reminded him of Winterfell and the fragile snow powder covering its yard. Would the stakes outside its walls be turned to piles of coal and bone by now? Jon’s struggling mind wandered to his sisters and brother. Sansa is surely managing the food supplies, preparing to feed her folks and serfs during the winter. Would there even still be folks to feed?

He walked on through the piles of burnt bodies, those who outran the fire met their fate at the peak of the Unsullied spear. The smoke scratched his throat to blood. It has been hours since he could properly breathe. Foolishly, he considered it a kindness. Perhaps the choking was what kept Snow from facing it all head on, without the needed air reaching his thick brain. It was what kept him safe from crumbling underneath the burden of the duty he sworn himself to fill. He wished to see the Seven kingdoms in the hands of a sensible ruler, kind and wise. People relied on him for protection, for leadership he now wasn’t sure he ever deserved to possess.

Jon felt betrayed and crushed by duty he felt the others threw on him. Why do they rely on him so much? Why is he the heir to the Iron Throne? Why was he the King the North had chosen? Why do they love him? Why do they want to see him rule? He led them head on towards a slaughter. Like an old sheepdog who mistook a sheep for a dragon. And now, burnt and beaten, he watched the sheep around him spasm in their dying moments, torn to shreds in puddles of blood.

Perhaps the worst truth was that there wasn’t even blood. The fire ate everything. It burning tongues left nothing but soot upon the walls and ground.

Mindlessly, he approached Davos and Tyrion. The men who stood before him were nothing like the advisors he knew them to be. They were no smuggler turned soldier and no noble. Jon saw shallow shells of men gaping back at him. Their eyes were the sight into an empty well. And the tired lord had no words to tell them.

Memories of their hands moving the figures on the map of the South creeped into Jon Snow’s mind like a snake. They played soldiers in a world belonging to dragons.

The men felt incompetent facing the rubble their string tugging led to. Each of them was as defenceless as the child lying burnt in front of them. Jon couldn’t even stand up to his Queen. And now, he no more felt like emptying his guts at the sight of it. The poisonous seeds of disappointment and failure growing side by side through his veins were the only sensation he could feel. Perhaps he suddenly grew distant to the genocide he took part of. For a fleeting moment his mind almost gave up and accepted that the Queen he had decided to follow just slayed innocents and children.

Tyrion’s steps towards the Red Keep were confident but his head hung low. He wished not for any soldiers to accompany him. Jon knew why and chose not to insist. Instead, he let Davos stand by his side as they scouted the city for what felt like hours.

The Unsullied were lining every street like watchmen on the Winterfell walls and Jon felt homesick walking through them. Continuing alone, the seemingly never-ending rows of soldiers in black armour led him to the steps on top of which roared a dragon. Surrounding the pathway leading to the monumental platform was a crowd everything but solemn or broken like Snow was. The Dothraki celebrated eagerly. They have followed Dany all the way to Westeros without a shroud of doubt in their mind. Those men bled and died for her because they believed she would one day sit on the Iron Throne. In their eyes, Daenerys Targaryen was the conqueror who granted them a city to burn and people to kill. In Jon’s eyes they were as blind as he was. And he pitied them for being fools.

Once the broken lord has reached the top of the platform, Drogon screamed vigorously to announce the arrival of his mother. Dany, standing tall like a weirwood tree and pacing her step with grace worthy of a Queen, stood above her armies with pride and joy in her eyes. Wings of her child enhanced her silhouette so well nobody doubted they don’t belong on her own back. She looked as beautiful as Jon could ever imagine and her chin levelled the ground firmly with a strict smile upon her lips. Dany was confident and strong. She was the ruler of the ashes of King’s Landing. There was nobody left to doubt her rule.

Nobody but Jon who stood behind her, silent and humble like a loyal hunting dog.

She spoke to the men who swore her loyalty and to the men of the North, who followed Snow when he did the same. She spoke to men who were now hers, to soldiers who would do whatever she asked. Her voice carried the strength of thousands of swords and spears and arakhs clanging against each other. It sounded like rain and Jon closed his eyes, wishing to feel water droplets fall on his cheeks.

Dany’s voice was the lightning that pierced the stormy clouds of thunder.

Jon watched the imp being taken away by the same soldiers who shielded him in battle only a few hours ago. The pressure in his veins welled up like a fresh bruise. Similar to an animal trapped in a corner, he sensed his instincts tempting his muscles to move forward and stop the injustice he stood witness to.

His feet felt numb, but it was not the fault of the icy snow as he made his way towards the Great Hall. The reflection fluttering in the pieces of the mirrors which once lined these walls showed a man no different to a coward. He wanted to crush them all with the sole of his shoe, but it would have made no difference.

His eyes closed and he spent a short while just standing in the hallway and feeling snowflakes stinging the back of his neck. The roof that would have shielded him from the weather just a few hours ago was gone. Snow lord knew this was not the reason why he brought the northerners south. The naive vision of people at peace teased and mocked his mind and the embarrassment became unbearable when he laid his sight upon her.

Wearing her leather robes covered in scales, Dany looked both ready for battle and to be the centrepiece a crowning ceremony. From where she stood in front of the throne, Jon saw her hair cascading down her back in braids untouched by the heat of the battle. He hated how she looked the same as the night he laid with her for the first time. And that was all he could feel; hatred. More for his own foolish self than for Dany. He accused himself more than responsible for the lives taken today and he blamed her for making him love her in spite of it. He despised his heart for following her nevertheless.

“I imagined it a thrown reaching the ceiling of the Great Hall,” sang Dany in the kindest voice. She turned around and Jon stood there like a boy, gazing at her skin and smile as if she was sculpted out of marble he wished to admire. “It’s odd to finally see and touch,” she caressed the hilt of a sword, “what has been destined for me.”

Jon’s voice was not like hers, he could not give speeches, he could not aspire people to follow him like she could. But they followed him anyway. And Jon led them blindly down a path that was lined with death and flames. He followed footsteps of someone he believed was right. And there she was, beautiful and strong, smiling down on the ashes she’s caused.

If he ever was half a man his proud folk considered him to be, he would not follow her any longer. Jon Snow had been at peace with being a bastard. He found pride in protecting his brothers of the Night’s Watch. He found sense and purpose in being the shield protecting the realm of people. His memories never failed him whenever he remembered the oath he had broken many times since the day he gave it. He had been a bastard, a crow and a King. He stumbled his crooked way into victory, betrayal, love and heartbreak and even death itself. And he still stood tall and held a sword just like any other man he fought with and against.

It was not fair.

The woman standing in front of him was a woman he loved. Power she possessed and displayed was nothing compared to the longing and affection he felt for her. And Jon still saw it pathetic compared to the duty he was bound to.

“Is it the throne you wanted?” asked Jon and watched in silence as she sat on the throne.

The air spiked too cold for a moment, Dany drew in a breath and smiled in content. Finally, she was where she belonged. There was no doubt in her mind that she was the rightful Queen. No other deserved to rule more than her. Her brother Viserys would have never touched the cold steel embracing her right now, no other Targaryen would do as much as she did and gotten so far.

She wished she looked at Jon and saw her lover ready to take on the role of her loyal follower just as he promised.  But she was met with a cold stare that felt like an abyss of the darkest night.

“It is,” she made herself comfortable and her robes folded over the creases of the swords. Jon took a few steps closer but stayed wary of the distance. There was little of the woman he loved on the boat in front of him. Sitting there was a Queen.

“Your majesty,” said Snow and saw her face light up, “Was it worth it?”

“What are you asking?” she scorched him with a look like Drogon’s. “It was. My journey here, everything I’ve done, I’ve done for the throne.”

“I thought it was for the people,” he rasped, and Dany stayed still and silent.

“I’ve freed them from a tyrant.”

“You’ve burnt children and women. You’ve killed innocents.”

“I’ve done what had to be done,” she said firmly, and her face was free of any sympathy. Jon spread his arms to show her the Great Hall, destroyed and in shambles.

“Did you really want this? A throne topping a pile of ash and bones.”

“Cersei put those people between her and my armies. They were meant to be my weakness,” shot the Queen back and her voice was rising.

“Yes. And she would’ve been right.” Jon took a few long strides and he was standing in front of her. “Because she knew you would not hurt those people.” Now he was looking down at her and Dany hated his head of black curls towering above her. She felt disrespected and straightened her back, her jaw set firmly to face the brave man.

“Cersei had to be stopped. Don’t you understand?” She held tight onto the armrests, but her voice turned to plead. “It’s over. Now that I’m finally on the throne, the war is over. No more tyranny and injustice. Can’t you see?”

“I cannot, Dany,” his answer displeased her. “Those people screamed in agony while dying. They were burnt to a crisp,” Jon’s voice shook. Dany stood up and was there to wipe a tear from his eye and lay her lips soft upon his cheek.

“There was no other way,” she stroked his hair and looked into his eyes. “But now, it’s just us. We will rebuild the King’s Landing. Children will be playing in the streets, ships will travel again. There is nothing standing in the way of a better future.” She gleamed with hope and Jon felt tempted to shield his eyes from the intensity. She smiled at him like a woman in love, naïve and foolish to paint her future as perfect as she could imagine.

“Dany, I love you,” he grabbed hold of her face and brushed her white as snow hair with his fingers. “There already were children playing in the streets. There were ships traveling to and from the harbour. Musicians and artists performing for coin on the street. There were families who gone to sleep hungry and those who drifted off with bellies full of wine.” She watched him with no strength to look away, despising the words he said out loud in front of her. “Tell me, my Queen. I knelt for you because I believed you were the one fit to rule. I saw in you not a fighter or a rightful heir by blood. I saw you a mother, a human. I’ve followed you for your heart and kindness and mercy.” His thumb caressed her cheek, “Where was your mercy when you ordered your dragon to burn the folks?”

Her lips curled up and her vision became cloudy with tears, but her face bared no sign of sadness. She hated him with every speckle of gold in her eyes. Her fingers grasped his coat and her voice broke into an aggravated, “Mercy?” Then her expression softened as did her tone. “Jon,” she brought him closer and he let her, “I am a ruler now. I came here to take King’s Landing and bring the Seven Kingdoms serenity and peace. Peace cannot be achieved by mercy. I wish it was as easy.” He stayed silent and she knew he still didn’t understand. “It’s all right now,” she laid her head against his, “It is done. We are standing in the Great Hall, the Iron Throne at my feet. I will rule this world just as I was always meant to. No more wars and intrigues, no fathers and brothers and husbands leaving their families to die. No more Cersei or any other family. We will set a new world, a better world.” He saw her smile and he knew she was speaking honestly.  “And I will need you, my love, to be by my side.”

Without a second thought, Jon kissed her, and Dany let his hands hold her close. He wished he had taken his dagger as his slender fingers wrapped around her neck. The softest of kisses landed on her lips and then Jon closed his hands around her throat.


End file.
